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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25674373">let it pour out of your soul</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoRationalThoughtRequired/pseuds/NoRationalThoughtRequired'>NoRationalThoughtRequired</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>disturb the universe [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bookshop Owner Geralt, Ciri &amp; Jaskier Friendship, Ciri POV, Established Relationship, Family Feels, Family Fluff, Fluff, Gen, Humor, Jaskier appears in this fic solely through text messages, M/M, Musician Jaskier | Dandelion, They all just love each other so much, background Triss/Yennefer</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 04:56:10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,506</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25674373</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoRationalThoughtRequired/pseuds/NoRationalThoughtRequired</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“Wait a minute. Wait a minute. Wait one minute.” Ciri again looks back and forth between her mother and Triss, her eyes wide, an absolutely giant grin blossoming across her face. “Dad’s making up a ruse to take me shopping so I can help him put together a Look for the world premiere of his boyfriend’s new string quartet?”</p>
<p>Triss smiles. Yennefer smirks. Ciri screeches.</p>
<p>“That is the <em>cutest fucking thing I’ve ever heard in my entire life!</em>”</p>
<p>Or: Geralt, apprehensive about attending the world premiere of a string quartet that Jaskier has composed, enlists Ciri's help in picking the perfect outfit. Ciri is all too delighted to assist.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>disturb the universe [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1772170</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>58</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>499</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>let it pour out of your soul</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I received a great prompt about Ciri and Jaskier taking Geralt shopping in the bookshop AU, and while I did not intend to write nearly 4500 words about it, I had a great time doing it! Jaskier does not actually appear in this fic except through text messages, although he is mentioned frequently. Really, this was an excuse for me to write a ton of family fluff, and, honestly, every time Ciri called Geralt "Dad" and Yen "Mom," I think five years were added to my lifespan. This is, as per usual from me, Extremely Soft.</p>
<p>Chronologically in this universe, this occurs about three months after the end of the main fic in this 'verse <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24522886">time to wonder, do I dare?</a> Quick formatting note: the texts from Ciri are right-aligned; the ones from Geralt and Jaskier are left-aligned.</p>
<p>Hope you enjoy!!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Ciri rolls over onto her side, lazy and languid, and she decides that it’s finally time to wake up properly.</p>
<p>Her alarm clock tells her that it’s <em>9:12</em>, and she thinks <em>oh, not bad</em> as she blinks the sleep from her eyes. Saturday stretches before her, the day wide open until late afternoon. The football game, requiring her attendance with the marching band, had been last night. The Homecoming game and dance, with all of its preparations and fuss, isn’t until <em>next</em> weekend. The only thing on her plate for this day is meeting Dara and Marillka at four to work on their physics group project.</p>
<p>A Saturday during the busiest time of the year for a high school band student and she has only one thing on her calendar? Ciri smiles, almost in disbelief at her good fortune. It’s <em>bliss</em>.</p>
<p>She curls her toes inside her socks and contemplates whether it’s worth leaving the warm cocoon of her blankets and sheets and quilts in favor of Triss’s waffles, which she can smell cooking downstairs, and which smell <em>divine</em>, when her phone buzzes on her nightstand.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <strong>From Dad &lt;3 :</strong>
  <br/>
  <em>Good morning, Ciri. Are you available today?</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Ciri grabs one of the five decorative pillows strewn about her bed and groans into it. She loves her father, of course she does, but if he wants her to give up the one almost-free Saturday she’s had in nearly two months to do some work around the bookshop, she’s going to scream a little bit about it, she really is.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>physics project meeting w Dara &amp; Rillka at 4.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>what’d u have in mind??</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She pushes herself upright and takes a deep breath, fortifying herself before she shakes off the bedcovers. Autumn has swooped in with a vengeance, bringing sharp winds and chilly-bordering-on-cold nights and even the promise of snow before Thanksgiving. She should be grateful for it, given how she had complained about the heat of the summer, loudly and at length, but she <em>hates</em> cold weather, she always has. Even if it <em>does</em> give her an excuse to wear cute scarves and knit hats and coats that look almost like capes.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <strong>From Dad &lt;3 :</strong>
  <br/>
  <em>I thought I might take you shopping to buy a new dress for Jaskier’s string quartet performance next week.</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Ciri finishes shrugging on her bathrobe over her pajamas and stares at her phone, the idea of her father, Geralt Rivia, volunteering to take her, his sixteen-year-old daughter, shopping for clothes--and not just any clothes: <em>fancy dresses</em>--so mind boggling that she doesn’t even know how to respond.</p>
<p>“What?!” she says, loud in the stillness of her bedroom.</p>
<p>She looks up from her phone, right at her closet door. Hanging from the top of it is the dress that she had picked out last Sunday when she went shopping with her mother and Triss. The dress they had bought for her to wear to Jaskier’s string quartet performance next week.</p>
<p>Well. Ciri raises an eyebrow. If her dad is offering to buy her a dress . . . far be it from her to say no. She can wear one to Jaskier’s performance and the other to the Homecoming dance two days later, and now she won’t need to have a repeating dress situation.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>sure sounds great!!!</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She flings her bedroom door open with newfound vigor and zest for being in a place other than her warm and cozy bed, and she thunders down the stairs, humming to herself with enthusiasm.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <strong>From Dad &lt;3 :</strong>
  <br/>
  <em>Wonderful. I’ll pick you up at 10:30.</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Ciri slides into her chair at the breakfast table just as Triss sets a plate with a heaping stack of waffles and whipped cream and strawberries and blueberries before her.</p>
<p>“Thanks Triss!” she beams, leaning into Triss’s hand as it gives a gentle stroke to her hair. Before snagging the syrup bottle from the center of the table, she sends one more text to her father.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>r u LEAVING THE SHOP IN THE MIDDLE OF THE DAY??!?!?!?!?!?!</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Is that Geralt you’re texting?” her mother asks from the chair next to her, quickly looking up from where she’s ferociously tapping on her tablet to blow her a quick kiss.</p>
<p>“Mmmmhmmmm,” Ciri mutters around a bite that’s more whipped cream than actual waffle. “He wants to take me shopping for a dress for Jaskier’s performance.”</p>
<p>Yennefer looks up for real at that and shares a very significant look with Triss, a sly smirk sliding onto her face. “Oh does he now?”</p>
<p>Ciri looks back and forth between her mother and Triss, longing for the day when she’s finally able to parse all the adult glances that have been thrown over her head for years. “Yeah, I thought it was out of character too! So what’s really going on here? I assume he already told or asked you about this. Also, I, uh, totally didn’t tell him that you already bought me a dress for the performance. Maybe I should have?”</p>
<p>Before Yennefer can answer any of her questions, Ciri’s phone buzzes once more and she sneaks a peek at it.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <strong>From Dad &lt;3 :</strong>
  <br/>
  <em>Uncle Eskel will take care of things around here. Surely I can leave the shop in his hands for three hours and the building will still be standing.</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Ciri chuckles at that and at her father’s wisdom at not leaving the shop in the sole custody of Uncle Lambert.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>lol ok c u soon</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You’re a wise girl for not telling him,” Yennefer replies once Ciri looks back up from her phone. She pats Ciri’s hand before setting aside her tablet to dig into her own waffles. “If your father wants to take you shopping and buy you a dress, let him. Triss, you want to decipher Geralt-logic for our dear child?”</p>
<p>Triss takes a sip of her orange juice and smiles. It’s a gentler smile than Yennefer’s.  “Your father definitely wants to make sure you have a nice dress. But we are beyond 100% certain he is asking you if you want to go shopping so he can then ask you for <em>your</em> assistance in helping <em>him</em> pick out something to wear for Jaskier’s performance.”</p>
<p>“Wait a minute. Wait a minute. Wait one minute.” Ciri again looks back and forth between her mother and Triss, her eyes wide, an absolutely giant grin blossoming across her face. “Dad’s making up a ruse to take me shopping so I can help him put together a Look for the world premiere of his boyfriend’s new string quartet?”</p>
<p>Triss smiles. Yennefer smirks. Ciri screeches.</p>
<p>“That is the <em>cutest fucking thing I’ve ever heard in my entire life!</em>” Triss pointedly clears her throat, although the broad smile on her own face negates the effect somewhat. “Yeah, sorry for the f-bomb at the table, Triss, but I’d like to point out that two nights ago I overheard Mom yelling about how if Stregobor doesn’t do blah blah something with discovery requests or whatever, she’s going to shove her foot so far up his ass she’ll be kicking out teeth, so I think you can see where I get it.”</p>
<p>Triss loses her brief battle with trying not to laugh, and she buries her face in her hands, her shoulders shaking. Yennefer, for her part, just shrugs, entirely unrepentant. “I stand by that assessment.”</p>
<p>“Threat,” Triss mutters, disguised into a cough.</p>
<p>“To-<em>may</em>-toe, to-<em>mah</em>-toe,” Yennefer replies, winking at Triss. Triss shakes her head, sending her curly hair bouncing around her face, but Ciri spies her sappy smile, and, honestly, she’s much too thrilled by the thought that both of her parents are in a relationship with someone who makes them deeply content and joyful that she doesn’t even bother to pretend to be grossed out by the rampant sentimentality surrounding her.</p>
<p>Ciri drums her fingers on the table. “Returning to the matter at hand, if we may.” She drums her fingers a little faster and adds a flourish at the end. “This is <em>too adorable</em>, Dad and Jaskier are so precious I’m going to scream. I can’t believe Dad is going to let me pick out clothes for him.” She pauses for a moment, wondering what could possibly make her father turn to her for fashion advice. “Is he like, really nervous about this or something?”</p>
<p>Yennefer frowns a little in thought. “I don’t know if <em>nervous</em> is the right word. He just . . . he wants everything to be perfect, and he keeps finding things to worry and mull over.”</p>
<p>“It’s possible,” Triss adds, in a tone that really means <em>it’s definitely the case</em>, “that he might be feeling a bit insecure. Or unsettled because he thinks he’ll be out of place at this performance.”</p>
<p>“He’s been to the symphony with Mom and I before, though. Several times.” Ciri chases a blueberry around her plate with her fork, losing it in a cloud of whipped cream. “And he’s been to performances of Jaskier’s ensembles before. There was one two weeks ago! So why would he feel out of place at this one? And why is he all out of sorts about a new outfit--he didn’t buy a new outfit for <em>those</em> performances, did he? It’s practically the same thing. I don’t get it.”</p>
<p>Yennefer takes a long sip of her coffee before she answers. “Normally, you would be right. It’d be practically the same thing as a regular symphony performance, and your dad would wear one of his nicer button-downs and nice slacks and maybe even a blazer, and he wouldn’t give it another thought. What’s special about this performance, Cirilla? You’ve already said it.”</p>
<p>Ciri contemplates this while making a sizable dent in her waffles. “Well, one of the pieces they’re playing next week is a piece Jaskier composed.”</p>
<p>Yennefer just arches an eyebrow, a clear <em>continue</em>.</p>
<p>“It’s--oh, because it’s a world premiere?”</p>
<p>“Got it,” Yennefer says with a small smile.</p>
<p>“Many, many people who are big in the classical music scene are going to be there,” Triss joins in. “Not just the Cintra classical music scene. Or the American classical music scene. But the international classical music scene. Jaskier is internationally known as a violinist, and people are very eager to see if his composition skills have kept pace with his playing skills. And some of those people are <em>genuinely</em> eager, and some of those people perhaps have motives that are not so well-intentioned, let’s say.”</p>
<p>“Also,” Yennefer adds, “old classmates and old professors from Juilliard will be there. Honestly, their presence may be more important or meaningful to him than the presence of professional music critics, even though he’d likely never admit it.”</p>
<p>A lot of things Jaskier has said and done over the past few weeks while he’s been putting the finishing touches on this string quartet and having rehearsals with his ensemble make a lot more sense now that Ciri has more information and context. “So that’s why Jaskier has been a bit . . . frazzled, lately?”</p>
<p>Yennefer snorts at that. “You don’t even know half of it, Cirilla. But yes. He has been . . . stressed.”</p>
<p>“And Dad?”</p>
<p>“He doesn’t want to be a distraction,” Triss says. She sets her fork down on her plate with a clink and folds her arms along the edge of the table. “There’s going to be a lot of scrutiny. And the vast, vast majority of it will be on Jaskier and the piece and the ensemble, of course. But Geralt doesn’t want to do anything that would take the focus off where it should be. Because there will, apparently, be people there who will look very closely at <em>him</em>, as the partner of the composer and first violinist. And he’s thinking that if he can’t be something positive for Jaskier, he at least wants to be something neutral and not something negative.”</p>
<p>“He’s wondering if maybe he’s not good enough to be there,” Ciri says, her voice very quiet.</p>
<p>Neither Yennefer nor Triss say anything; their lack of denials say everything.</p>
<p>“Well!” Ciri says, clapping her hands together. “Forgive me for breaking the no cursing at the table guideline--not rule--<em>yet again</em> this morning, but that is <em>some bullshit</em>”--both Yennefer and Triss snort at that, and a smile returns to Ciri’s face, sunny and bright--”and what I’m hearing is that I need to boost Dad’s confidence and find him something stunning so that he feels like he belongs. Because he <em>does</em> belong with Jaskier. Wherever Jaskier goes, now matter how fancy and elegant, Dad belongs right there with him.”</p>
<p>Yennefer leans over and kisses Ciri on the forehead. “You’re a wonderful girl, Cirilla. Pick out something nice for yourself. Pick out something <em>stunning</em> for your father. And when we all show up on Thursday night, supporting the newest member of our family as he wows every classical music scene there is, we’ll definitely be something positive for him, right Triss?”</p>
<p>Triss abandons her chair and bends down between them to pull them both into a hug. “Fuck yeah, we’ll all be something positive.”</p>
<p>Triss shrugs at Ciri’s stare of disbelief and says, her voice very prim and proper, “As you said, Ciri, it’s a <em>guideline</em>, not a <em>rule</em>.”</p>
<p>Ciri can’t help the laughs that overtake her, and her mirth spreads to her mother and to Triss. She laughs so hard that she can’t finish her waffles, and stray giggles continue to escape her even when she’s back upstairs sorting through a pile of sweaters and skinny jeans, searching for an outfit for the day while the clock inches closer to the time her father is due to arrive.</p>
<p><em>Still a good Saturday, even if I’m not lounging the day away in bed</em>, she thinks as she runs a comb through her hair. <em>A good Saturday indeed</em>.</p>
<p> </p>
<p><br/>*</p>
<p> </p>
<p><br/>Ciri manages three steps into the mall itself from the department store before she picks at the knot at the bottom of the bag and drags the plastic upwards so she can stare some more at her new dress.</p>
<p>Emerald green, with delicate embroidery around the hem and the bodice and long sleeves flaring out near her wrists, it’s not at all what she had been thinking about on the drive over, and she can’t believe she found something so unexpected and so <em>beautiful</em>. “I’m going to look like a medieval princess, this is going to be <em>so awesome!</em>”</p>
<p>Geralt smiles indulgently. “It is very nice,” he says, always the master of understatement. “Can’t believe it was so difficult to find a dress for you that actually had sleeves. It’s November?”</p>
<p>Ciri laughs at his bafflement. “Oh, Dad. Women’s fashion doesn’t follow any known form of logic. Trying to suss out how it works will only lead to madness.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, obviously.”</p>
<p>They both snicker, and Ciri takes the opportunity to wrap her arms tight around her father and give him a squeeze. “It really is gorgeous. Thanks so much, Dad.”</p>
<p>Geralt leans down and presses a kiss to the top of her head. “Of course, cub. Worth dragging you out of bed on your mostly free Saturday, huh?”</p>
<p>“<em>I guess</em> if I have to be somewhere other than snuggled up under my covers, shopping for a super-awesome dress with my dad isn’t the worst thing I could be doing.”</p>
<p>Geralt chuckles as they amble down the promenade, dodging vendors selling over-priced sunglasses and small children with sticky fingers waving sugary pretzels and lollipops the size of their heads. “Not the worst thing you could be doing. Well, I’ll take that, I suppose. High praise indeed.”</p>
<p>Ciri pokes him repeatedly in the side, laughing when he draws his coat tighter around himself to ward off her attacks.</p>
<p>“Soooooooo,” she drawls, “I can’t help but notice that instead of going back to our car, we have come out into the mall itself.” She widens her eyes and tries her very best to look pleading and innocent. “Dad. Are you taking me on a shopping spree?”</p>
<p>Geralt’s eye-roll is truly legendary, and Ciri can’t contain her laughter. He smiles as well, but it’s a brittle thing, and he isn’t able to maintain it for long.</p>
<p>“I need your help,” he admits, quietly, as they come to a stop outside of a bespoke menswear shop. “I need a suit for the performance, and I would greatly appreciate it if you could help me pick one out.”</p>
<p>He meets her eyes, but only just, and Ciri pushes down everything teasing that had been on the tip of her tongue. Instead, she stretches up on her toes to kiss him on the cheek. “Of course, Dad. Definitely worth dragging me out of bed on my mostly free Saturday.”</p>
<p>Some of the tension releases from his shoulders, and he takes a deep breath, gives her the barest hint of a smile. With a sharp nod, he heads into the shop with great purpose, Ciri following behind.</p>
<p>Geralt, faced with a seemingly endless selection of suits and shirts and shoes and accessories, stops in his tracks almost immediately. “I have no idea what I’m looking for,” he murmurs to her.</p>
<p>Ciri waves off a salesperson who approaches with an expectant smile on his face, knowing his presence will only put her father more on edge. “I got you, Dad, don’t worry. How about that one?”</p>
<p>Geralt’s eyes follow to where she points to a brightly colored, flower-patterned blazer. He snorts and pushes lightly at her shoulder. “That’s something Jaskier would wear, not me.”</p>
<p>Ciri grins, and when an answering smile eventually finds its way onto Geralt’s face, a small smile, but a steady one, she feels relief wash over her. “You know,” she says, pulling out her phone, “he <em>would</em> wear that blazer, and I’m going to do him a very big favor and make him aware of its existence.”</p>
<p>She snaps a picture and pulls up her messaging app.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>u def need this</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“He’s in rehearsal today,” Geralt says absently as he studies a tweed number, complete with elbow patches. “So he might not respond right away.”</p>
<p>“Oh, not a problem. I send him random stuff all the time when he’s practicing.” She looks up and grimaces. “Dad, tweed is not for you. That, however,” she says, pointing to a dark suit that has a subtle blue plaid pattern to it, “you would look fantastic in <em>that</em>.”</p>
<p>Both of Geralt’s eyebrows climb up towards his hairline. “Seriously?”</p>
<p>“Yeah! Like, it’s plaid, so it’s different, but it’s not, you know, like the flowered one over there. It’s a quiet plaid, if that makes sense? It draws the eye, but like, in an <em>oh wow</em> way, not a <em>what the hell</em> way.”</p>
<p>Geralt hums, looking deeply unsure of whether he wants to draw the eye at all, and Ciri’s heart does a little flip in her chest. She leans against his upper arm. “It’s okay to stand out a little, Dad.”</p>
<p>Geralt trails his fingers down the sleeve of the plaid blazer and along the cuff. “This is Jaskier’s performance, though. He’s the focus, him and his ensemble. Not me.”</p>
<p>“Right, but”--Ciri jolts a little as her phone buzzes in her pocket--”you can have a little color in your look without stealing the show and making it all about you. Jaskier would <em>definitely</em> approve of that suit, by the way. He’d see you in the audience wearing it, and he would be stunned.”</p>
<p>“He’s the <em>last person</em> I need to be distracting!”</p>
<p>“Well, true,” Ciri concedes, enjoying the brief mental image of Jaskier on stage, looking out into the audience and being so mesmerized by her father dressed to the nines in a gorgeous suit that he would momentarily be unable to play a single note. “You’d just have to model it for him ahead of time so he could get acclimated to it. He’d still find you stunning the night of the performance, but he wouldn’t be so surprised to see you in it, so he would find you stunning in a way that doesn’t negatively affect his playing.”</p>
<p>Geralt hums again, considering this, but he ultimately turns away from the plaid suit. He glances around them, apparently seeing nothing that catches his eye, and wanders off towards the back of the shop, where Ciri can see the tuxedos. She sighs and pulls out her phone.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <strong>From Jaskier:</strong>
  <br/>
  <em>AMAZING, I love it, I need five of them</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Ciri smiles and then shoots a glance over at Geralt, currently frowning at a baby blue tuxedo. She quickly types another text.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>dad is worried if he wears something with color he’ll be distracting and take focus off u</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>tell me in writing its ok for him to be a little bold</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Her phone doesn’t even have the opportunity to go dark before Jaskier replies with a flurry of texts.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <strong>From Jaskier:</strong>
  <br/>
  <em>yES MY GOD YES</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>HE CAN WEAR WHATEVER HE LIKES</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>ANY COLOR</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>EVERY COLOR</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>BOLD IS GOOD</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>but seriously though</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>I would love to see him take a fashion risk, that would be SO GREAT, but really, I want him to be comfortable. Whatever that means for him.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>He doesn’t have to try to impress me, he already does that, every day. He doesn’t have to worry about upstaging me. He won’t, trust me.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>If he’s there, and if he’s comfortable, that’s enough. That’s perfect.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>He’s perfect.</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Ciri sniffs a little bit, and she’s not going to start crying in the middle of this menswear shop, she’s <em>not</em>. </p>
<p>She walks over to where her father has pulled a tuxedo jacket off the wall and is holding it in front of himself before a mirror. He’s still frowning.</p>
<p>“Perhaps a tuxedo?” he asks when she steps next to him. “Or is that <em>too</em> fancy? Jaskier will be in a tux, at least for the performance itself. So maybe I shouldn’t wear one? But I remember seeing an audience member in a tux the last time I was there for a performance. So maybe it’s fine. What do you think, cub?”</p>
<p>Ciri says nothing. She simply holds up her phone so Geralt can read her conversation with Jaskier.</p>
<p>“Hmmmmm,” he says, his frown giving way to something more thoughtful, more gentle. His eyes go soft as he reads the last text, and a beginning of a smile curls at the corner of his lips. He hangs the tuxedo jacket back up. “I don’t think I’d be really comfortable in a tux.”</p>
<p>Ciri tugs at his arm until they’re facing the rest of the shop. “You’d look great in one. But what do you think you’d be comfortable in?”</p>
<p>Geralt glances down at what he’s wearing: black coat, black button-down open over a black t-shirt, black jeans, black boots. The usual, the standard. “I don’t think I’d be comfortable in a lot of color. Not really,” he says, a hint of ruefulness tinging his tone.</p>
<p>“That’s fine!” Ciri says, voice bright. “Monochrome can be very, very good.” She looks around the shop and her eyes fall on the ridiculously large display of ties and pocket squares. She can see nearly every color imaginable, right there, ready for the accessorizing. “<em>Great Scott</em>, I have an idea!”</p>
<p>She pulls him over to the wall and waves a hand at it. “Black suit, black shirt, black vest, if that’s what you want. Accent with a tie or pocket square in the color of your choosing. Dad, you’re going to draw the eye a little bit, no matter what, because I mean”--she gestures vaguely at him from head to toe and smiles when it elicits a chuckle--”so if you’re comfortable in mostly black, do that, but with a <em>little</em> splash of color. So maybe try this?”</p>
<p>Geralt reaches out, lightly touches a deep maroon tie, casts a gaze over the array of colors available to him. “I can try this.”</p>
<p>Ciri grins, delighted. “Okay. Give me your measurements, I’ll find the pieces for the suit. You decide on a color, deal?”</p>
<p>Geralt claps her on the shoulder, leans down so he can touch his forehead to hers. “Deal.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p><br/>*</p>
<p> </p>
<p><br/>Twenty minutes later, Ciri lounges in a chair near the fitting area, idly chatting with the tailor, her new dress draped over her lap.</p>
<p>Geralt steps out from behind the curtain of a fitting room, and Ciri’s eyes go wide.</p>
<p>Black suit, black shirt, black vest, black shoes. Brilliant blue tie, knotted in a shaky but still competent full windsor, brilliant blue pocket square.</p>
<p>“<em>Damn, Dad</em>.” She gives her very best attempt at a wolf whistle, which mostly fails, but it makes Geralt laugh, even as he blushes ever so slightly and looks down at his feet. He never has liked being the center of attention.</p>
<p>“What’s the significance of this shade of blue, cub?”</p>
<p>Ciri draws a blank on that one, her brow furrowing as she thinks. It’s a light shade of blue. Honestly, it’s a lighter and brighter shade than she ever would have imagined for Geralt. She had expected him to pick something darker, like a navy blue, if he had wanted a blue, not this shade.</p>
<p>“Why would I pick <em>this</em> shade of blue to wear for <em>this</em> performance?”</p>
<p>The way he emphasizes <em>this</em> makes something click in Ciri’s mind, and when she glances up, Geralt looks very proud of himself and also a tiny bit embarrassed at his own sentimentality. Mostly, though, he just looks utterly smitten and besotted.</p>
<p>“Dad,” she says, her voice going shrill, “did you match your tie and pocket square to the <em>color of Jaskier’s eyes?!</em>”</p>
<p>He holds out his hands, as if to say <em>guilty as charged</em>.</p>
<p>“That is the <em>cutest fucking thing I’ve ever heard in my entire life!</em>” It’s an effort to keep from screeching, but she manages it, if only just.</p>
<p>Geralt turns toward the mirror and adjusts the tie. “I <em>am</em> capable of being cute, yes.” He winks at her in the mirror, and she rolls her eyes.</p>
<p>He beckons the tailor forward, and as they work putting pins in places to make tiny adjustments, Ciri snaps another picture.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>when u see this on thursday, act like ur surprised ok</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She doesn’t have to wait long at all for a response.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <strong>From Jaskier:</strong>
  <br/>
  <em>HnnnnnghaskfjhJHDGHJadgsdfhsfdhsdfkshgsdf</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>GONNA TURN ON MY LOCATION, SEND EVERY AMBULANCE IN CINTRA HERE TO ME</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>!!!!!!!!!!!!</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>OH SWEET JESUS</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>OH WELL DONE</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Ciri leans back in the chair, the grin on her face only growing larger as Jaskier continues to wax poetic about Geralt and his choice of suit over text. She considers telling him about the motivation behind the color choice for the tie and pocket square, but when she looks up at the mirror and sees Geralt smoothing his hand down the tie with a small, soft smile on his face, she decides to leave that for her father to tell.</p>
<p>Her eyes meet Geralt’s in the mirror once again, and just before he heads back into the fitting room, she gives him two very enthusiastic thumbs up.</p>
<p>
  <em>Yeah, a very good Saturday indeed.</em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Title courtesy of <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8RZqPq1-1Tw">San Francisco</a> by The Mowgli's. (It feels weird posting a fic in this universe and not having any songs to link to at the end, so here we are.¯\_(ツ)_/¯ )</p>
<p>If you're thinking, I'd like to read more about Jaskier composing this mysterious string quartet: STAY TUNED. (But don't hold your breath; it's slow going.)</p>
<p>Thanks for reading!! Come say hi on <a href="https://norationalthoughtrequired.tumblr.com/">tumblr</a>!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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